


Ride it Out

by LokisonofLaufey



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pneumonia, Sickfic, Slight spoilers, do not post on another platform, not quite a fix it but a what if this happened instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 18:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokisonofLaufey/pseuds/LokisonofLaufey
Summary: Worn out from running job after job, Arthur contracts an illness.





	Ride it Out

**Author's Note:**

> New to the fandom, and freshly broken hearted by this dumb yeehaw game. I needed something self-indulgent, so I present this.

Arthur trotted back to camp with a buck on the back of his horse. He’d already worked it over, skinning the beast and putting the most important parts in his bag. Even though the rain had been a cold and relentless nuisance for the last leg of his ride, he did the job without a grumble. The demand for meat had been so great that Dutch had sent him hunting just after returning from a grueling few days running errands around Valentine. He also had a pair of decent looking turkey tied to the saddle, but they weren’t in as great a shape as the deer. It would have to do. Arthur was dragged out, as they say.

Pearson saw his approach and thankfully came to help remove the game as Arthur slid out of the saddle. He felt as if he’d been sewed into the leather seat, his legs and back sore from all the riding he’d accomplished the past week. He was certain his horse was just as relieved to part from him. As he and Pearson carried the spoils of his hunt away, Kieran came over to care for the horse and clean the blood off her hindquarters.

“A fine assortment of goods, Arthur,” Pearson complimented. He’d just be happy to feed the camp so as to stop their complaints. Lenny had even moaned one day that all the vegetables were making him feel faint. Arthur’s only response was to lay the turkey on Pearson’s table and tip his hat in acknowledgment.

The rain was still misting the area, chasing the camp occupants under what little cover they could find. Arthur made eye contact with Dutch over Miss Grimshaw’s shoulder and nodded, continuing to his own setup. He was still soaked to the bone, his clothes uncomfortable and clinging, but changing was the last thing on his mind. At least when he took off his coat, his shirt was mostly dry underneath, but that was the most he had energy for. He dropped to his cot, fully dressed and with a crackling little cough.

He’d just closed his eyes when he heard someone walk up to him, but he’d already committed himself to the illusion of sleep.

“Hey, Arthur, Kieran said you just got back, and…. Arthur?” 

It was Abigail. But it wasn’t going to happen. Whatever she wanted would have to wait, because he absolutely had no stamina left.

“Never you mind then,” she said with a quiet sigh, and left. He felt a twinge of guilt, hoping it wasn’t anything important or urgent, but then he was already drifting towards the muzzy feeling of slumber.

~

Hosea Matthews was a criminal first, and a gentleman second, but he also considered himself something of a surrogate father to several folks in the Van der Linde Gang. Some more than others, but they were all important to him, all his wayward compatriots.

When Arthur slept through the night and then some, well into the next day, Hosea took it upon himself to wake the man and check on him. He looked rough, well, rougher than usual, so maybe he was just making up for lost rest? At least that’s what he’d thought, approaching Arthur’s makeshift tent with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Arthur,” he said good-naturedly, but loud enough to wake a sleeping man. When he didn’t respond, the smile slipped from his face. Arthur looked pale, his forehead beaded with sweat.

“Miss Grimshaw, could you do me the favor of coming over here a moment?”

The dark-haired woman shuffled over, about to ask what for, but when she got one look at Arthur her lips pressed in a tight line. She leaned over and felt his forehead, pushing his damp hair aside.

“What do you make of it?” Hosea asked, cupping the steaming tin of coffee in both hands. He was afraid of her answer, fearing the worst.

“Could just be fever,” she said, curiosity getting the best of her and she pinched the fabric of Arthur’s pants. Still damp. “Probably from riding in the rain.”

Her sentence was punctuated by Arthur coughing, a horrible, wheezing, rattling thing. Hosea grimaced.

“What can we do? I’ll not lose him to sickness.”

“Then we won’t,” Miss Grimshaw said resolutely. “First things first, he’ll need to get out of those clothes. They’re filthy and wet. And we’ll have to send someone to town for medication.”

“Consider it done.”

Hosea turned heel and handed the coffee to a surprised looking Bill who just happened to be walking by. Then he headed straight to Lenny – no one rode faster than that boy. He explained the gist of the situation to Lenny, who looked around him at Arthur in concern. Lenny nodded determinedly, already standing from the log he’d previous been perched.  
“And take someone with you, just in case there’s trouble.”

What Hosea meant was, ‘just in case someone gives you trouble.’ Lenny was a fine young man, but racism dogged his heels even in the kindest of towns. Lenny motioned for Kieran to join him and the two of them soon set off at a hard gallop.

Arthur was coughing again, but Hosea could hear his raspy mumble and surmised that he’d finally come awake. Miss Grimshaw was speaking with him in her famed no-nonsense tone, aiding him in sitting up so she could tug his arms through his sweat-damp sleeves. Hosea moved to help, hoping against hope that this would blow over as a mild sickness and that he’d see Arthur sitting astride his horse once more soon enough.

~

The sun was still reaching its peak when Lenny and Kieran arrived in Valentine. Both men hitched their horses outside the doctor-barber’s establishment and made their way inside. The doctor greeted them in a friendly enough manner, and offered assistance in finding anything they needed. Lenny thanked him, but immediately set to looking through the collection of tonics himself. He knew a little about medicine, from what his father managed to impart to him.

“What about this’un?” Kieran said after a time. He held a green bottle with a small yellow label, but when Lenny read the title he shook his head.

“Nah, not really good for you. I don’t care how popular that one is, it’s got bad shit in it,” he said, returning to his search. He knew enough to know that heroin and morphine-based drugs could do wicked things to a man. He’d even seen Swanson drinking that particular tonic in a desperate attempt to chase a high. He couldn’t imagine getting Arthur hooked on the drug.  
Kieran shrugged and put it back. Lenny could honestly say that he didn’t mind Kieran. Sure, he teased him with the rest of the gang, but in Kieran, he could see a man desperately looking to belong somewhere. And in the end, as long as he was on their side, he had nothing to say against him.

It took them a few minutes, but Lenny eventually turned up something that was mostly natural and made from bark. It was some type of cough cure, which sounded good enough to get the job done. After paying, the two made their way to the general store for some honey (at Hosea’s request), then saddled up for the ride home.

~

In the hours since Lenny and Kieran left, Arthur’s health had been in a sharp decline. He was sweating and shaking under the camp’s cleanest furs, having been moved to Dutch’s tent to stave off the elements. He coughed and coughed, his hand coming up to press against his chest as his face twisted in pain. Grimshaw had ordered Pearson to make use of their chickens for some soup, and the others seemed to mill about, trying to catch a glimpse of the sick man through the tent’s opening.

Miss Grimshaw was under the impression that Arthur had pneumonia, which could easily get out of control if they didn’t keep a keen eye on him. Dutch accepted the diagnosis solemnly, and Hosea vowed to do what it took to see Arthur better. Miss Grimshaw, ever in control, also advised them to divvy up what was usually Arthur’s responsibility to the rest of the gang. He could be out of commission for a while, and that was no excuse to let things go to pot.

Charles agreed to take up hunting straight away, easily the best man for the task. His skill with a bow was unrivaled. Javier offered to work on small jobs to pull in some much-needed cash, and when he heard what the Mexican had in store, Sean chimed in, saying he’d gladly help. Bill, Tilly, Karen, and Uncle were assigned to keep watch over the camp.

When Lenny and Kieran arrive back at Horseshoe Overlook, the honey was handed off to Mary-Beth to lace boiled water with, and the tonic was given to Miss Grimshaw. She woke the feverish Arthur to administer the tonic, and then allowed him to settle back and rest again.

The rest of the day was much like it usually had been before Arthur’s illness. Those without a job wandered about camp, trying to find something to do to pass the time. Dutch was reading, seated on a crate on the side of his tent, and periodically making note of things out loud, much to the confusion of everyone else. Molly appeared to be unaffected by the recent happenings, but she tended to hold her tongue and only express herself in the company of the camp’s other women anyway.

Mary-Beth produced the hot water and honey mixture and helped Arthur drink as much as he could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much, but when May-Beth looked to Miss Grimshaw in alarm, she assured her that a little was still more than none.

Hosea found himself taking residence beside Arthur’s bed in the early afternoon, unable to assure himself that the younger man was in acceptable health (all things considered). The hacking coughs Arthur made did nothing to reassure him. Rather than dwell on it, he too took up a book and distracted himself.

~

The week continued in this fashion. Dutch acquired Arthur’s lean-to with as much grace as he was able. The camp watch rotation went without a hitch, despite finding Uncle asleep once, so roostered that Tilly had to take his place early. John accompanied Javier and Karen into the town a few times, keeping a close eye on proceedings while Karen stealthily pick-pocketed a few men. Luckily they beat a hasty enough retreat to keep suspicion off their backs when the men realized they were light a wallet or a pocket watch.

Kieran took a more serious approach to caring for the gang’s horses as they were being used more often. Lenny and Sadie went to town to pick up fresh vegetables and bread when they started to run low, sometimes topping off the tonics they used to keep Arthur’s health above board. Occasionally Sean rode out and held up single riders on the path, bringing home a few dollars here and there. Even Swanson came back once with earnings from a card game. All of it was welcome, as the gang collectively realized just how much Arthur did for them. He thanklessly took a lot of weight on his shoulders, and it shamed them.

The only one who seemed less affected than Molly was Micah, which surprised no one. He made snide remarks to anyone who would listen, accusing Arthur of being namby-pamby, washed up, and akin to a horse needing to be ‘put out of its misery.’ He garnered foul looks but ignored them in lieu of making his feelings known. There was no lost love between the two men and it showed. Even Dutch finally told him to pull in the horns, but Micah was on a roll.

During a particularly bad day, while Sadie was attempting to get Arthur to eat some soup (losing when Arthur threw up anything that passed his lips), he stood outside the tent’s opening with an impassive expression. Micah spit at the ground and scoffed at Arthur’s weakness.

“Should leave him to rot at the town doc’s. He’s not our obligation.”

Sadie looked up at him in muted shock. What was his angle? And why did he come across as so jealous?

What Micah hadn’t noticed was Hosea sitting behind Sadie, curled in on himself with his hand resting atop Arthur’s. When he stood to his full height his expression was thunderous and even Micah stepped back.

“Excuse me, my dear,” he stepped around Sadie with a gentle hand on her elbow. When he stood before Micah, he drew his arm back faster than the other man could anticipate, drawing on the fact that he was not known for being especially violent, and cold-cocked him. Micah fell, splayed out on his back, unconscious before he even landed. Hosea only sniffed, massaging his fist, and returned to his seat beside Arthur. 

Sadie was quietly impressed, having had a bad taste in her mouth about the blowhard ever since they met on the worst day of her life. Even Arthur was looking down at Micah, blurry-eyed and barely able to comprehend what had just happened.

“Go to sleep, boy,” Hosea only said, patting Arthur’s arm.

~

“You know,” Sadie said, “there was a time I was real sick once.”

The moon was high and bright in the sky, the night cool and the crickets making song around the camp.

“My ol’ Jake took care of me for days,” she continued. A swell of emotion tried to crawl up her throat, threatening to choke her and make her tear up. She swallowed it down ruthlessly. It was a fond memory, nothing to get worked up over.

Arthur slept on, oblivious to the story Sadie was regaling him with. That was just as well. She was working on herself, trying to decide between allowing her past self to die, or to grow into something hardened to those emotions. Only she didn’t let on that she was wrestling with this decision. The rest of the gang probably thought they were dragging around a sappy widow who was most likely to pass on from the drink. No matter her choice, she refused to let that become of her.

“You’ve got yourself a good family, Arthur Morgan,” she concluded, falling silent.

~

Several days later saw Arthur fighting his fever at the worst of its extent. Upon feeling his burning skin Miss Grimshaw directed Lenny and John to haul him to the nearby river to cool off. Lenny helped manipulate an insensate Arthur onto John’s back, flopping his arms over the man’s shoulders while John grabbed hold of his legs. Touching the cold water wakes Arthur a bit, causing him to squirm and grumble, but Lenny keeps a hand on his chest so he can’t attempt to get up. He’s submerged as deep as they can manage in the somewhat shallow water, and Sadie appears with a bucket so they can pour water over him. He looked like a half-drowned muskrat by the time Miss Grimshaw arrived and pronounced him cool enough to return to bed.

Dutch quietly inquired after his health when they returned, and Miss Grimshaw told him that Arthur was not yet out of the woods. If he could survive the fever, he was likely to recover, and she was staunch about that. Her resolve put him at ease. It doesn’t particularly comfort Hosea however, as he became hung up on the fact that Arthur needed to endure through a fever before he was in the clear. It was still to be seen. When Dutch asked him why he was so grim, he expressed as much.

“He’ll be fine. He’s strong,” Dutch said, confident and with a smile. Hosea nodded, but he didn’t buy it. There were still too many things that could go wrong. If he lost Arthur it would be like losing a son, and after his wife, he didn’t know if he could take it. There was already too much death in his life. 

He’d pray on it, though he doubted he could bend God’s ear after all his years of misdeeds.

~

When Arthur’s fever finally broke, he started to really come around. Mostly he complained about being bedridden, and the fact that his caretakers were consistently trying to force soup down his throat. He wasn’t nauseated anymore either, so they took that as a sign to force-feed him with more vigor. His crackling cough remained, however, and it still hurt his chest, but he was definitely on the mend. Dutch clapped Hosea on the back and laughed, proclaiming that he never doubted that Arthur would overcome. Hosea only shook his head and brought Arthur another cup of hot honey water.

Pearson jokingly lamented that soon Arthur would be the camp’s prime hunter again, and he’d have to deal with fishing bullets out of the meat he brought back. This earned a small smile from Arthur himself, who responded that that he’d happily give the reins to Charles permanently. If only he could finally get some time to himself, that is.

Sadie happily took more duties on board now that she wasn’t sitting at Arthur’s bedside on and off. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was also more approachable, which pleased the other ladies to no end. Sadie wasn’t over what had happened to her, but it was a start towards healing. 

The day finally came when Arthur took to the saddle again, his illness no longer dragging him down. He’d taken on an easy job in Valentine, one that wouldn’t tax him overmuch. He was pleasantly surprised when Sadie asked to come along. 

“I just need some new clothes, that’s all,” she’d said, accepting reigns from Kieran and mounting a horse that was newer to the camp.

“Be my guest,” he acquiesced, leading her out of Horseshoe Overlook. He made several inquisitive glances her way while they rode towards their destination.

“Thanks, y’know, for uh…” he rubbed the back of his head, clearly a little uncomfortable. Sadie supposed a big, strapping, solitary man like Arthur would feel somewhat put out by needing such constant care over the past few weeks.

“Don’t mention it. S’what family does for each other,” she said with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> So, Arthur seems to be VERY capable at picking up illness, huh? If this had been the worst of it, we could all have been happy, but noooo. Also, you can’t really pick up pneumonia from the rain, but these are the olden days when folks didn’t know better. He mostly likely picked it up by going from dirty job to dirty job without proper hygiene. 
> 
> Dragged out: fatigued, worn out.  
> Roostered: drunk.  
> Namby-pamby: sickly, weak.  
> Pull in your horns: back off, quit looking for trouble.


End file.
